Giant centipede

Centipede Scolopendra subspinipes

Centipede exploringThis centipede (Scolopendra subspinipes) is also known as the Vietnamese centipede, Asian forest centipede, and Chinese red-headed centipede, among other names. Some of these names are unprintable when uttered by someone who has just been bitten by one. The bite can cause extreme pain and can be dangerous if a person is allergic to the venom, but is not generally considered life-threatening.

The venom is delivered through a pair of modified legs, known as forcipules, located just behind the centipede’s head. For this reason, it’s useful to figure out which end is the head, but this isn’t always immediately apparent, as both ends have some similarity in appearance.

The centipede is the alpha creepy-crawly here in Hawaii. This one was about five inches long, but they can be much longer. (For anyone who has the nerve to read a story — and see a photo — about one of these that measured in at 14.5 inches long, click here.)

This was a good place to spot this centipede, outdoors on a dirt road. There are few worse feelings than spotting a centipede in the house, scurrying across the floor (they move fast), and disappearing into a tiny, inaccessible crack. This means that a general understanding that centipedes live in and around dwellings is replaced by the certain knowledge that there’s one in the same room.

Since most bites occur from unexpected encounters, such as when a centipede has crawled into someone’s shoe, or in a towel, or made itself comfy in a bed, when I see a centipede inside, I usually become more vigilant for a while.

I haven’t been bitten yet, but I know the chances are it won’t happen when I see a centipede, or when I’m being vigilant. It will be when I’m engrossed in something, such as writing on my computer, and I lean back and wonder, in a last moment of innocence, ‘what the heck is that tickling my neck?’ Aaaaaaargh.

Post Office Building, Honolulu

Post Office Building Honolulu

Couple at Post Office Building HonoluluAn off-island photo from my recent jaunt to Honolulu. This is the old U.S. Post Office, Custom House, and Court House, which is still in use as a post office today. The building is one of many historical buildings in the downtown area.

This building dates from 1922 and, according to the handy guide from historichawaii.org, ‘This classic Mediterranean-style structure features large roof overhangs, shaded arcades, open interior courtyards, spacious porticos, and two towers.’

Not a bad spot to sit and have lunch.

 

Heller’s barracuda

Heller's Barracuda

I saw this group of fish one day when water conditions weren’t very good, so I was happy to get a photo as decent as this. What caught my attention were the blue stripes, pointed front with underslung jaw, and forked tail.

It was a bit tricky to identify as most photos I found, including my fish book, John P. Hoover’s The Ultimate Guide to Hawaiian Reef Fishes, Sea Turtles, Dolphins, Whales, and Seals, show only shoals of Heller’s barracudas.

Heller’s barracudas are related to great barracudas but aren’t dangerous. They hunt by night and move inshore to rest in groups like this one by day.

Giant African land snail

Giant African Land Snail on the moveGiant African Land Snail and ants nest

This giant African land snail’s shell is about three inches long, but some adults grow a shell eight or more inches in length, with 7 to 9 whorls. Their size and attractive shells make these snails popular in the pet trade. In some places, the snails are used for food.

Thus endeth the positive news. On the downside, the giant African land snail is considered one of the world’s top 100 invasive species. Besides being a mighty muncher of fruits, vegetables and other vegetation, it carries pathogens damaging to a wide range of plants. It carries human pathogens, too. Oh, and it has a negative impact on native snails.

However, like most of us, it wanted no part of an ants nest, as seen in the photos in the middle and below.

Giant African Land Snail

I’m a rooster

Rooster

Since this week’s WordPress Photo Challenge theme is ‘Awakening,’ it seemed an appropriate time to feature a rooster. After all, they’re widely associated with heralding in the day by loudly announcing the new dawn.

As it happens, I know a few things about roosters, mostly because, for six months, I lived across a narrow street from a rooster farm with 40 or 50 birds. Here in Hawaii, roosters and chickens are everywhere. While many are farmed in some form or other, others wander free. They can be seen milling about both town and country, crossing streets, wandering across lawns, scratching up flowerbeds.

I can confirm that roosters do indeed crow at daybreak, but this is along the lines of saying a broken clock gives the right time twice a day. That’s because roosters are quite happy crowing at daybreak, during the day, in the evening, in the dead of night, and all of the above. In theory, it’s quiet for a few hours at night when roosters sleep. In practice, all it takes is for one bird to wake suddenly — possibly from a bad dream, possibly barbecue-related — and cry out, and any other rooster within earshot is likely to join in. So that dawn chorus could go off at midnight, at 2 a.m., at 4 a.m., or all of the above.

But what is it these roosters are making such a noise about? Well, after exhaustive research, using my Dr. Dolittle translator kit, I have figured it out. What they’re saying, each and every time they open their little beaks is, “I’m a rooster.”

Forget ‘cock-a doodle-do,’ forget whatever the version of this is in different countries, “I’m a rooster” is what it boils down to. And when one announces this, it prompts other birds to announce that, they too are roosters, just in case anyone had forgotten.

Many’s the night I was jarred awake by this call, first one rooster, then a couple of others, the noise swelling, and then gradually ebbing as each bird forgot why it woke. At these times, I’d lie in bed hoping this would be the cue for another hour or two of blissful quiet. And then, somewhere out there in the dark, one of the slower roosters in the neighborhood would stir. Deep in that little bird brain a cog would clunk into life. ‘Did I hear a rooster? Well, shoot, I’m a rooster too. I’d better let him know.’ Out would come the cry and all those birds that had just settled down would pop awake again. ‘Hey, he’s a rooster. What d’ya know. Me too. “I’m a rooster.”’

So, yes, I think a rooster is an appropriate post for ‘awakening,’ assuming, that is, one can fall asleep in the first place.

These two birds appeared in the neighborhood a few weeks ago from who knows where. When I see them, I shoo them off, not wanting them to get too comfortable here. The alternative is making their dreams come true, assuming they’re barbecue-related that is.

Abstracts: A’ama crabs and sea spray

Abstracts-A'ama crabs and sea spray

One of the first things anyone visiting a rocky seashore here will see is lots of little black shapes skittering away. Those shapes are a’ama crabs.

On this day, I had, as usual, spooked the crabs into motion, but after putting a little distance between me and them, they settled down again. Where they settled was on this sloping rock next to a blowhole. Moments later, water shot out of the blowhole creating this scene.

Where I would have been squealing and running from the sudden deluge, the a’ama crabs remained. I guess, living on these rocky shores, they are well used to this sort of thing.